Too Late
by Saranwyn
Summary: He waited to tell him his feelings, and now it's too late. Warning: M/M, lemon, Angst
The day Maes Hughes got married, I smiled and laughed and hugged him, and then, during the reception, I snuck back into the chapel and cried. I sat with my back against the altar – heathen that I am – and let my tears fall until I was sure I would drown myself. I was glad he was happy. I was incredibly glad he had found love. But it killed me to know that he couldn't find that love with me. That I was not the one that could make him happy. I sat there and cried out five years of memories – four at training and one in Ishval. I doubted he even remembered my confession – possibly the hardest, most agonizing moment of my life.

It was in training, two years in. We'd fought the first year…constantly. Honestly, we couldn't get within thirty square feet of each other without one of us throwing words and the other returning in punches. Then the second year we became roommates, and all that changed. Neither of us could handle fighting **every** day, probably a few times a day, so we called it quits on the fighting, and somehow that gave birth to friendship. And for me, that friendship developed into what had probably been my sentiment from the very beginning – love. But for Maes, it was the same as all his other friends. He was always popular and warm and friendly. I wasn't like that. For me, he was my only friend, my only solace. For him, I was just one of many, one more person who wanted to share his life with him. There was nothing special in that.

But somewhere around the beginning of the third year of training, I remember he had snuck out one night to get some air. I always knew when he snuck out, even though we weren't roommates, anymore. He was in the dorm across from mine, and I could always see his window slide open and he'd slip away, unnoticed into the night. I knew he was having trouble, arguing with some of the officers. Hughes was always very outspoken about his opinions. Unlike me, he wasn't willing to bow and lick the shoes of whoever was above him, just to climb the ladder. So I followed him, that night, when he took too long coming back, and I got worried for him. And I found him sitting on the roof of the mess hall, staring up at the sky. In two seconds I'd climbed up to join him and seated myself next to him.

"Hey," he had greeted me with a small smile.

"You know, my roommate sneaks into his friend's room most nights, if you ever want to come talk…" I offered. He nodded and kept his gaze focused on the stars. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted some time to think."

"Sorry. I'll go…" Whenever he said things like that, I got this feeling he didn't want me around. But he grabbed my hand before I could get up.

"Don't go…please. I like having you around. You understand a lot better." Then he shot me a grin. "Besides, I know you'd be totally friendless without me."

"It's true," I had replied, staring straight at him, and he laughed softly.

"You know, you should try being friends with some of the other kids around here. It's not so bad, you know?" I continued to stare at him, agonizing over what to tell him. I had decided, after all, that I wouldn't tell him about my feelings for him. But now, I just felt like I had to.

"Why should I need anyone but you?" I asked him very softly. I'm not even sure he heard me, because he just stared at me for a moment and then looked away. "Maes…I like you." The word love was far too embarrassing and made me feel far too vulnerable, but "like"…that was the closest I could come to actually saying it. He smiled gently and patted my shoulder.

"I like you too." But that wasn't what I wanted to tell him. I didn't want to tell him I liked him. I wanted to tell him I was hopelessly in love with him. So I licked my lips to steel myself and pressed my mouth against his, hard and needy. Then, before he could react, I was on my feet and running away. And we never spoke about it after that.

Now, I had actually shared a few kisses with him, since then. During the rest of training and during Ishval. Then again, lots of soldiers went gay during war only to switch back as soon as they got home. For him, I'm sure, it was just for the sake of any human contact, any comfort he could get. I let it slide at that. I didn't want to push him for an answer. I was afraid that if I asked him if he loved me, he'd say no. We'd never done more than kiss, though sometimes quite passionately, and he still was receiving letters from Gracia.

I don't know how I never saw it coming. How could I not realize that this day would come where I'd be sitting in his house, on his couch, talking to his wife and three-year-old daughter while he was in the kitchen, making coffee. I'm not angry at him, or them. But it hurts to be around them, sometimes. You'd think I'd have gotten over it, by now, right? Their daughter, Elisa – my goddaughter – slides off her mother's lap and toddles over to me. I pick her up, kiss her head, and set her on my knees. She giggles from her new perch and waves at her father, as he comes in with the tray of coffee. He kisses his wife. Doesn't he understand what he's doing to me? I stand up abruptly. I can't take it, right now. Right now when I'm feeling so, incredibly lonely.

"I-I have to go. I forgot about some work…" I turn and head towards the door. "I'll see you later." I feel myself on the verge of tears. I have never felt so alone in my entire life, and now, totally unbidden, no cause whatsoever, I feel completely and utterly desolate. The door shuts behind me and I make my way through the apartment building.

"Mustang!" a voice calls. Don't call my name like that, Maes. Don't do this to me. You don't mean to, but you're twisting the knife you shoved in my chest. Please let me just bleed out in peace. His hand catches my arm. That broad, warm hand, calloused and worn, that used to comb through my hair and rub my back and stroke my cheek, telling me it would all be alright. That same hand turns me around – the betrayal – and bares my pitiful state to him. I'm almost in tears as I look slightly up at him – he's always been a little taller than me. "What's wrong?" he asks, his shocked gaze roaming over my face.

"N-nothing. I'm tired, that's all."

"No it's not. Mustang, please open up to me. Trust me and let me bear a little of the weight," he pleads, now grabbing me with both hands. I shake my head, too worn out to pretend, anymore, all I can do now is openly deny him what he's asking. "Mustang…"

"Stop it!" I cry, my words hoarse and threatening to break. Don't call me "Mustang!" I was never "Mustang" to you. I was "Roy." But I'm not "Roy" anymore.

"Please. I want to help you."

"You can't." I force my voice to find that even, toneless pitch again, keeping it low as to not let anyone else hear. He looks hurt. "It's not your fault. Don't feel bad." He pulls me in and crushes me against his chest.

"Please. I want you to be happy. Let me help you. I swear, I'll do anything I can." I shake my head, pushing away from him. He grabs my face between his hands and brings me in for a kiss, but I stop him. I can't do that, now. Not when I know it means nothing to him.

"You're married. Don't do that."

"If it's what you need-!"

"I don't. I don't need **that**."

"Then what **do** you need? Please, I'll do my best to give it to you, just please….please, Mustang." I turn my back on him, but he grabs me from behind, hugging me tightly. "You've been like this for so long…I've tried to give you your space, but I can't do it, anymore. I can't watch you suffer alone."

"Please stop, Maes. You're hurting me." His arms loosen.

"Are you injured?"

"Yes."

"Where? Let me take care of it!"

"You can't."

"Why not?! Why do you keep saying that?!" He spins me around, again. "Why can't I help you?!" I look away, resisting the urge to cry.

"Because you're the one that's hurting me," I admit at last. Shock. There's nothing else. Then…confusion, frustration – at himself probably – hurt, and remorse.

"How? Let me make it up to you! Please! Mustang, don't end our friendship. I can fix it, I swear!" He's almost at the point of tears, now, too.

"You can't fix it."

"How did I hurt you?!"

"Maes…what took place between you and me…in training and in Ishval…none of that was trivial. None of that was friendship, for me. Those kisses we shared were the only things that kept me going, not because it was human comfort but because it was **you** , Maes." A look of realization comes over his face.

"Mustang…"

"I never wanted to be 'Mustang' to you, Maes. That's why. I just…I need a little time. I'm sorry. I promise not to do this, again." I turn and walk away before the tears I can see gathering in his eyes can leak out and break my heart. I go to my own apartment and fling myself moodily onto the couch. I don't even feel like drinking. Instead, I just lie there for hours, staring up at the ceiling. Then, there's a knock on my door. Swearing, I get up to answer it.

"Maes…" I stare at him. He's totally smashed, eyes bloodshot from crying. I step back and he stumbles in. I catch him as he almost falls flat on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't go to my wife like this…"

"Come on, you can stay here, then."

"Roy." I help him to the couch and go to get him some water, but he grabs me. "Roy! I'm talking to you!" I stop.

"What is it, Maes?" I ask as softly as I can.

"I don't want to lose you, Roy. I was so stupid to ever let you out of my sight."

"You haven't lost me. I'm still your best friend. I'm sorry about today," I begin to apologize but he pulls me down off balance so I somehow end up in his lap.

"No! I-I lost you when I married Gracia…no, before that! I never even had you! I was so stupid! I was always chasing after something, but I never opened my eyes long enough to see it was right beside me the entire time." He hugs me tightly, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "I don't get how I messed up so badly!"

"Don't say that, you love Gracia."

"Yes, I do. I love Gracia. But Roy, as much as I love her, I love you too. I love you so much it hurts. I'm so sorry!" I can't help but laugh humorlessly at our predicament. "Please…let me love you…just this once." He takes my face in his hands, again, and kisses me like he used to, with tongue and teeth and passion. It feels too good to push away, so I give in and respond.

"What about…Gracia?" I ask when we break for air. A flicker of doubt runs across his face. He's not the kind to cheat on his wife. "I don't want you to feel bad about doing this with me." He kisses me again.

"I feel worse…not doing this, Roy. I don't know, anymore. I'm so confused and I just…I need you. You were the only one to ever make everything alright. I need you, Roy." His rough, warm fingers tug at the buttons of my shirt. I let him remove the obstructing cloth before working on his shirt, too. "Roy, I feel so crappy," he admitted, nuzzling my neck. "I feel horrible. I was so stupid. I wish…I wish I could just take everything back."

"Don't say that."

"I don't want to hurt you, Roy. If I'd realized and accepted my feelings for you in the beginning, I wouldn't even have met Gracia, and no one would've been hurt and we would've been happy."

"Shhh…It's okay. I **am** happy. I'm happy just to be able to stand by your side." Apparently that's not good enough for him because suddenly, I'm on the couch, under him, my legs being hoisted up around his waist.

"Stop it!" He kisses me fiercely. "Stop telling me it's okay!" The next thing I know, he's trying very hard to get our pants off, but his alcohol-blurred senses are not making it easy, so I help him out.

"Promise me you won't hate yourself for this later," I whisper into his ear as I slide my pants down my legs.

"I won't. I want you! I love you! Can't I own that for one night?"

"Yes, Maes, you can." His "helping" it making it hard to get the rest of his clothes off, so I slap his hands away. "Let me. You're too drunk." He lets me, propping himself up with his arms on either side of my head. Finally we manage to get fully unclothed.

"We should take this to your bed…" he comments suddenly. "I want…I want to do it right." I nod and we get up. I support him on the way to my room. Before I can even shut the door, he has pushed me down onto the bed and leapt on top of me. His mouth finds my neck. I groan and lean my head back. Oh, God, that feels amazing, his soft, wet mouth sucking so hard like that, his body pressed against mine, hot and hard and needy. His drops his hips to rub against mine and I moan as our members slide against each other.

"Maes…ungh…that…haaa." He smiles against my throat and moves his mouth down, down, down to my nipple. He seizes it and begins to suck on it none too gently. "H-hey!" I whine. I'm not some woman! He stops, much to my disappointment, and looks up at me.

"Should I stop, **Roy**?" he purrs my name. No way is he supposed to listen to my ego's protests right now! Stupid Maes, teasing me like this! I swallow hard and shake my head, anything to get that feeling back, again. He willingly complies, sucking harder than before, tugging with his teeth until that small, round nub is sore and abused and so over-sensitized I feel like I could come just from that. My fingers lace into his hair, curling there loosely. He pulls away from my chest with a soft, wet 'pop' and smirks as he slithers his way down my body to my aching member. I tug feebly on his hair, all my strength completely lost to pleasure.

"M-Maes…" I whimper. He licks the tip, causing my hips to jerk. Oh, God, that feels too good. He smirks and now takes the head into his mouth. I gasp and again my hips arch, trying to get him to take more, which he does, massaging his tongue into the slit and hollowing out his cheeks. He slides down onto my need until it touches the back of his throat, and his nose is nestled in the hair near the base. Then, sucking hard, he draws up, fondles the tip with his tongue and slides back down. "Maes!" I gasp. "Oh, God, Maes…!" He continues the motion, sucking harder and harder each time. I tug hard on his hair. "Stop!" He stops, shocked, his eyes going wide. I exhale a deep, shuddering breath. "Th-that's not…how I want…to come," I pant. And with that, I grab his hand and bring it to my mouth. He watches, his breath trembling, as I lave each finger with my tongue. Once I'm satisfied with my work, I release his hand and nod. He moves his hand to my entrance, his eyes still on my face, as presses on finger lightly. "Please." He pushes it in and I moan softly. After that, he makes quick work of the preparation, his own need starting to take over, and the next thing I know, something **much** larger than three fingers is pressed to my puckered hole.

"Ready?" he asks breathily, leaning up to gather me in his arms, hugging me against his chest. I nod into his shoulder and he starts to press into me. Oh, God that hurts! I moan mostly to keep out from actually shouting in pain, and bite my lip hard. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "It will feel better soon, I promise." Finally, he's seated fully in me and now just waiting for me to adjust. He lays me back down on the bed and stays perfectly still. Slowly, the pain fades and I begin to feel a little impatient. I wriggle a little and the member inside me brushes a bundle of nerves. I gasp.

"Oh, God, Maes!" He takes that as I sign to move and thrusts shallowly, hitting that spot. "Th-there! More!" I urge desperately, and he complies, increasing the depth and strength of his strokes, until he's hammering that spot dead on, each time. I can no longer hold back my voice. On the next thrust I moan loudly.

"Oh, Roy, you're so beautiful," he pants, his hands tracing over my chest. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Is that so? Even more beautiful than the "goddess of sex," Gracia, when she was pregnant? He had talked so much about it. "Roy…I love you…so much!" I lift my hips to meet his thrusts. He grabs my legs and tosses them over his shoulders, allowing himself to go a little deeper.

"Ungh…Yes….ahhh…" I moan, too far gone in my pleasure to be embarrassed.

"Roy…you feel…amazing," he gasps out. He reaches for my member but I slap his hand away. I want to come…just from him inside me. And I can feel it. I will soon.

"So close…" I whisper. I squeeze around him and he comes with a moan.

"Royyyyyyyy…" His fluids wash, hot, over my insides, and it feels amazing. I reach my own high, arching completely off the bed, my eyes flying wide.

"Maes!" Thick ropes of white essence spurts from me, coating my chest and even reaching my chin. Then, I collapse and he allows himself to fall down on top of me. I wrap my arms around him. "I love you, Maes," I whisper.

"I love you, too, Roy." He kisses my head and pulls out of me, rolling to the side. However, the neat-freak inside me will not let me rest, yet. I get out of bed, wrinkling my nose at the mess we made.

"Get up." He groans and obeys.

"Should've known you'd go on a cleaning spree after sex," he grumbles as I rip the sheets off the bed and head to the shower. I grab his hand and pull him with me into the shower, turning the water on hot. "Roy."

"Yes?" I tug him under the hot stream of the shower with me, and he hugs me tight against his broad chest.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "And I'm not drunk." Of course, it's only now that I realize he's right. He's not drunk. I can't even smell any alcohol on his breath.

"Then why did you-?"

"I thought…if I pretended to be drunk, you'd be more willing to accept my feelings as the truth."

"Are they?"

"Yes! Mustang…Roy…ugh, I…everything that happened between us just now was the completely, unbridled truth." I now pull back slightly, looking up into his face. I smile a little.

"But you still have your wife and kid." He nods and I reciprocate. "That's okay. You wouldn't be you if you left them…even if it was for me." He swallows hard. "And I will always be with you, Maes. No matter what." After a long while, he turns off the water and we get out, drying off. I throw some new sheets onto the bed and we curl up together, not even bothering with clothes or blankets, and fall asleep. When I awake the next day, he's gone, leaving only the cold imprint of his body on my bed as a reminder that what had happened last night was real.


End file.
